She didn’t want to be attracted to Mitch, didn’t want to trade an overprotective father for a condescending husband who thought she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. As much as she adored her father, he was too zealous in his caring, too anxious that she would harm herself in some way. That had been the reason he’d taught her to shoot.
Many times when she wanted to scream with frustration, she reminded Papa that Mama had only been a couple of years older than her when she’d made the Land Run with four adolescents. Tori Cochran was a strong woman.
And Priscilla was her mother’s daughter.
It had taken weeks of arguing, cajoling, and tears to get Papa to allow her to take the job in Dogtown. Although she missed her family something dreadful, she was loving the independence.
She busied herself with making tea and coffee, aware the entire time Mitch stared at her body. The tingle in her insides had turned to a thumping heart and an unfamiliar moistness between her legs. Goodness, maybe she was getting sick, and school had only been in session for two days!
After placing a plate of cookies and cups of tea and coffee on the table, she licked her dry lips as she took the seat across from Mitch. He made a slight sound, almost like a groan. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes, just fine. Thank you for the coffee.”
Priscilla stirred sugar into her tea. “Your son is very bright. In fact, he is at the top of my class, right below the high school students.”
There was no way she could miss the glow of pride on Mitch’s face.
“I sent a wire to my parents in Oklahoma asking them to send my college textbooks. I know it will be awhile before he’s ready for them, but I think he might get some use out of a couple of them now.” She raised her eyebrows. “Were you planning on college?”
“The money is already in the bank. We do believe in education here in the backwoods of Dogtown, you know.”
She tightened her lips. “That is not what I meant, and I do wish you would stop putting words into my mouth. I never said Dogtown was backwoods, and from what I’ve seen, most parents here are very interested in their children’s education. Maybe they’re not all thinking about education beyond high school, but that doesn’t mean they are stupid.”
He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you don’t think we’re stupid.”
Somewhat mollified, she removed her hand and took a sip of tea. “Thanksgiving is in a couple of weeks. Do you and Ian do anything special for the holiday?”
“We mostly spend it by ourselves. I cook a turkey, and Ian makes the potatoes and gravy. I usually buy a pie from Mrs. Gillis, the boardinghouse owner. She sells pies, cakes, and cookies around the holidays.”
Her eyes downcast, Priscilla drew small circles with her fingernail on the table. “Would you care to come here for Thanksgiving? I’ll even do the cooking if you supply the turkey.” She looked up and shrugged. “I have no idea where to get one here.”
She didn’t know why, but the idea of sharing a holiday meal with Mitch and Ian seemed the right thing to do. Of course, had he told her of plans that involved other people, she would have spent the day alone, catching up on school work. For all her desire to get away from an over enthusiastic family, the thought of being alone on a major holiday was depressing.
“There have been years when we were snowed in for Thanksgiving.”
“Really? Snow comes that early?”
“It sure does.” He leaned forward, as if sharing a confidence. “Yes, and there have been occasions when we are snowed in for weeks at a time.”
She leaned in. “Oh, my. And what does one do when snowed in for weeks?”
“Try to keep occupied.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
Priscilla swallowed and whispered, “What sort of occupation would keep one busy for weeks at a time?”
“I can think of lots of things to do snowed in for weeks.” His voice grew thick.
Priscilla stared into his eyes, wondering what the heck she was doing. “Care to explain that, Mr. Beaumont?”
“In some cases, actions speak louder than words, Miss Cochran.” Leaning his elbows on the table, he cupped her cheeks and covered her mouth with his own. She felt the jolt all the way to her toes, which curled in her half boots. She’d never been truly kissed before now and was slightly annoyed that she’d grown to twenty years and never experienced the heady feeling of joining her mouth with another’s.
Mitch angled her head so he could go deeper into the cavern of her mouth. His tongue, tasting of coffee, skimmed over her gums, touching parts of her mouth she had no idea were sensitive. She moved closer and placed her hands on his warm face, feeling the slight bristle of a beard. It felt like sandpaper on her fingertips, and she wondered how it would feel against the sensitive skin of her neck.
His fingers slipped into her hair, bunching it in his fists as he assaulted her mouth. A slight moan filled the air between them, and she wasn’t even sure who had made the sound. Slowly he released her lips and sat back, his hands dropping to the table. She opened her eyes and stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “I think I better go.”
“Yes, I think that’s for the best.” She didn’t rise when he stood, just watched him from her chair, her fingertips touching her swollen lips.
What the hell did I just do?
Mitch strode from Priscilla’s house, taking deep breaths and trying desperately to get himself under control. He’d just kissed the new teacher like she was some sort of trollop. It had been obvious to him the very intelligent and sophisticated woman was a rank amateur in the game of kissing. But she was certainly a fast learner. He could very well have been the first man to kiss her.
Why the hell did that fill him with such a sense of male satisfaction? He had no designs on Priscilla. She was his son’s teacher, a woman far above him in life, who would return to her parents’ cozy home as soon as she grew tired of playing school. A game the girls he’d known growing up played all the time.
If he’d thought it was best to stay far away from her before now, after this disaster he was tempted to pack up and leave town himself.
Thanksgiving Day arrived with bright blue skies, cold crisp air, and a possible hint of snow in the near future. Mitch had purchased the turkey for their feast, and at Priscilla’s request, had it sent over from the Gray’s Farm yesterday. Now all he had to do was pick up the pumpkin pie at the boarding house and take the short walk to Priscilla’s. She had insisted on doing everything else herself.
“I still think you should marry Miss Cochran,” Ian said as he walked alongside Mitch, puffs of moist air coming from his mouth.
“Ian, no one should tell another person whom they should marry.”
They stepped off the boardwalk into the street, dodging a buggy and two horses. “But don’t you like her, Pa?”
“Yes, of course I do. I also like Mrs. Gillis, but I have no intention of marrying her.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Mrs. Gillis is old.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Mitch slowed his steps when he realized Ian was double stepping to keep up with his stride.
“You’re just being silly. Miss Cochran is pretty, smart, funny, and she cooks.”
“I cook.”
Ian rolled his eyes again. “But you’re not pretty.”
Mitch grinned. “No, just smart.”
He really enjoyed these verbal exchanges he had with his son. Ian was growing up much too fast to suit him. Years ago, when the boy was an infant and Mitch had spent many a night walking the floor to get him to sleep, he’d wished for him to grow up fast. Now he wanted to slow the process down. In a few years he’d be off to college and Mitch would be alone.
I could always marry and have more children.
It had been hard, but he’d stayed away from Priscilla since the kiss they’d shared over a week ago. Every day Ian came home excited about school and
what they’d done that day. From what he’d heard from the parents who’d stopped into the shop to chat, Priscilla was making quite an impression on the town.
Too bad she wouldn’t last.
Last Sunday he’d nodded politely to her in church and steered Ian to another pew. She looked surprised and a bit disappointed. However, he was the one left seething when rancher Terrance Milford sat next to her and they shared a hymnal. Watching them smile at each other and their heads bent close when they sang had his hands clenching and unclenching.
The woman had him tied in knots and he didn’t like it. Nope, not one bit.
Priscilla opened the door, and the wonderful smells from within surrounded them. The combination of the scents and her standing there, an apron over her blue dress, dampened curls falling alongside her face, and a cooking spoon in her hand almost had him dropping to his knees and begging her to marry him.
Thank God good sense prevailed.
“It smells wonderful in here.” Ian sniffed as he wandered toward the kitchen.
Priscilla grinned at Mitch. “I hope you like my cooking.”
“I’m sure I will.” He was still having a hard time being this close without grabbing her and kissing her senseless. He hung his coat and hat up on the hook by the door. When he turned, Priscilla stood not five feet from him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you mad at me?”
“No. Why?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Ian checking the pots on the stove. Perhaps Mitch wasn’t mad at her, but something was going on. He’d been avoiding her since the last time they’d been together and they’d shared a kiss that had her distracted for the past week. In fact, until he sent over the turkey yesterday, she even had her doubts they would show up today.
“I don’t expect you to visit—I realize ours is a professional relationship—but you did a good job of ignoring me in church. I thought we were friends, at least.”
“I, um.” He closed the distance between them and, placing his hands on her shoulders, pulled her forward and kissed her. Not as thoroughly as the last time, but considering Ian was in the next room, certainly thoroughly enough.
“I’m not mad at you.” He walked off to join his son in the kitchen, leaving her heart pounding and her knees ready to melt.
Well, then.
She followed behind and smoothed her hair back, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.
“When do we eat?” the always hungry eleven-year-old boy asked.
“In about an hour. But if you can’t wait that long, I have soda crackers and cheese you can nibble on.” She pulled the cheese from the icebox and set it on the table, along with a basket of soda crackers and a knife. Her hands still shook as she went about her duties, and she dare not look at Mitch for fear of what would show on her face.
“Pa, Miss Cochran told us the story of the First Thanksgiving yesterday. Even though I knew all about it, it was fun to see the little kids as they heard the story.” Ian turned to Priscilla. “Did I tell you I think I want to be a teacher?”
Grateful for the distraction, she pulled out a chair and sat, still not meeting Mitch’s eyes. “I think that’s wonderful, Ian. I’m the fourth teacher in my family. My mama was a teacher, my cousin Ellie taught high school, and her husband, Max, is the principal of Guthrie High School now, but he was a teacher at one time.”
A knock sounded at the front door and she jumped up to answer. Feeling a bit calmer, she opened the door—and nearly fainted.
A tall, stern-looking Indian man stood on her doorstep. He was dressed in moccasins, deerskin pants and shirt, with a large blanket wrapped round his shoulders. A feather stuck out of his black bowler hat, and he held some type of a pole with feathers on it.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. I come for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Chapter Seven
“Iilápxe!” Ian rushed forward, throwing himself into the man’s arms.
Instinctively Priscilla reached for Ian and pulled him back against her. “Who are you?”
Mitch’s laughter sounded in her ears as he walked up to the man and threw his arms around him as well. “You found us.”
“Yes. Dúupe Bilítaachiia not miss Thanksgiving dinner with nephew.”
The man’s visage was as if carved in stone, his body tight. Priscilla was still a little leery of the stranger.
With his arm wrapped over the man’s shoulders, Mitch drew him into the room. “It’s all right, Priscilla, this is my uncle. My mother’s youngest brother.” He turned to him and frowned. “Who, by the way, speaks perfect English, not this strange language.”
“Dúupe Bilítaachiia not know what you mean. He has come for dinner as promised every year.”
“Cut it out, Two Moons.” Mitch took Priscilla’s hand and pulled her forward. “This is Miss Priscilla Cochran, the new teacher in Dogtown.”
The smile that broke out on the man’s face wiped away any reluctance she had toward him, as well as jarred her with the resemblance between him and Mitch. There was no doubting their family connection. “I am pleased to meet you. I’m sorry if I wasn’t very hospitable.”
Two Moons laughed and threw the blanket off and leaned his pole by the door. “Is this your woman, Mitch?”
“No.” Mitch and Priscilla both said at once.
The uncle winked. “Ah, I see how it is.” He removed his hat and hung it on the pole.
“Two Moons joins us every year on Thanksgiving if he’s in Colorado. He’s a Texas Ranger, one of the best, so not every year he’s able to make it. I left him a note on our door in case he came by.” Mitch turned to his uncle. “It’s good to see you. You look as though you haven’t taken any bullets this year.”
“No. Things have been quiet. We’re spending a lot of our time guarding the Mexican border. Although a couple of us were called to Brownsville to keep order on election day, once in April and then again earlier this month for the general election. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to miss seeing my family. The outlaws can wait.” Two Moons ruffled Ian’s hair. “You been doing good in school?”
“Yes, Uncle. Miss Cochran says I’m way ahead of everyone else my age.”
They had all settled in the parlor. Priscilla couldn’t connect this very Indian-looking man with the Texas Rangers. But then if he were wearing the Ranger uniform instead of the deerskin outfit, he would probably look more like a lawman.
He was a good-looking man, with bright blue eyes that took everything in and kept studying her and Mitch with a look that was making her very nervous.
“I knew you were a smart boy, Ian. Just like your daddy here.”
Priscilla stood. “Can I get you something to drink? I have apple cider.”
Two Moons glanced at Mitch and grimaced. “Apple cider?”
“I brought some whiskey with me. It’s in my jacket pocket.” He moved to get up.
“I knew there was a reason I favored you, boy.” He looked at Priscilla. “Ma’am, if you object to whiskey in your house, I will be happy to forego it and drink your apple cider.”
“No, not at all. My papa likes his whiskey and my mama has been known to have a sherry now and then. Go right ahead.” She turned and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll get you a glass.”
“Make that two,” Mitch called as she left the room.
“She’s one fine-looking woman, Mitch.” His uncle settled back in the chair, his ankle resting on his bent knee. “Why is she not your woman?”
“You know I’m not looking for another wife. Haven’t been since Polly. I’m happy with just me and Ian.”
“No, you’re not. But we won’t continue this now.” He smiled as Priscilla returned carrying two glasses. Mitch picked up the small bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket and poured two drinks. “Do you want some, Priscilla?”
“Heavens, no. Even though I’m this far away, Papa would somehow find out and blister my ears.” She shifted on her seat so Mitch could sit alongside her.
; “Tell me about your family.” Two Moons sipped from his glass and studied her over the edge, once more making her a bit jittery. Added to that was her closeness to Mitch. His nearness had her much too aware of his scent and warmth, causing little butterflies to dance in her stomach. Perhaps she should have had a sip of the whiskey after all.
“I was born and raised in Guthrie, Oklahoma. My mama made the Land Run back in ’89 with four teenagers in tow. They’re my cousins. She met Papa there and they fell in love and got married. I have four brothers, and all my cousins and their spouses and children live within blocks of us and each other.”
“Ah,” Two Moons said. “And you wanted to get away from all that closeness.”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
He lifted his glass in a toast. “Good for you. I think you’re a remarkable young woman who comes from a strong family.”
“Her father is a United States senator.” Mitch placed his empty glass on the table.
“No kidding?” Two Moons snapped his fingers. “Cochran. Yes, that’s right, Jesse Cochran out of Oklahoma. Good man.”
“The best.” She spoke softly, a hitch in her voice. Mitch covered her hand with his and gave it a little squeeze. Something Two Moons noticed by raised eyebrows.
The Indian turned his attention to Ian. “Gardez-vous avec vous francaise?”
“Oui, mon oncle, je pratique tous les jours.”
Priscilla’s jaw dropped and she stared at Ian. “You speak French?”
Mitch leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Um, Priscilla, we all speak French.”
Her head swung back toward him. “You, too?”
“Oui.”
“When I spoke in French, you understood?”
“Chaque mot que vous a dit.” He grinned at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort.
“I’ve been mumbling insults to you in French for days. And all that time you knew exactly what I was saying.” She dropped her head in her hands. “Mon Dieu!”
A Dogtown Christmas Page 6
